


Resfeber

by pressedinthepages



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: !!!, Come Marking, Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Prickly Bastard, Smut, Soft Lambert (The Witcher), Touch-Starved, love it, smut in chapter 2, snuggles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:14:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25414501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pressedinthepages/pseuds/pressedinthepages
Summary: Lambert likes his independence. But his world is tipped on its side by someone just as sensitive to touch as he is, and he can’t help but wonder...
Relationships: Lambert (The Witcher)/Reader
Comments: 11
Kudos: 74





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> no request here, just the simple ramblings of a touch drunk romantic

Lambert prides himself on being an independent Witcher. Well, that may be a bit redundant, Witchers are  _ supposed  _ to work alone, live alone, travel alone. But, Geralt’s got the bard and the witch, Eskel keeps finding lost goats to follow him around the continent, and Lambert? Well, he’s spent the last half a century traveling the world alone, and he’s been doing just fine. 

Until he met you. You had been walking along the trail under the blistering sun, a small pack slung to hang across your chest. Your shirt was loose around your waist, and your skirt flowed freely along the ground with every step that you took. 

As Lambert had approached behind you, his pace a bit faster as he walked back to the town that had hired him, he watched as you tilted your head to look behind at him, sensing him there. He saw you take in his eyes and the scar through the one on the right, his twin swords, his armour, stained with wyvern blood. 

Lambert waited for the inevitable stench of fear, the accelerated pounding of your heart in his ears as you dash away. But instead, you only smirked, turning back to face the road ahead as Lambert stopped in his tracks. 

__ “You know,” he yelled, rushing after you and settling into a comfortable stride at your side, “you shouldn’t turn your back on strange men walking along the road. You could be taken advantage of.”

You hummed, glancing over at him as you reached to your waist. You deftly unclasped the skin of water that hung there, taking a sip before you held it out to Lambert. He squinted as he looked into your eyes, distrustful of this unnecessary act of kindness. However, all he found was generosity, and as he felt sweat drip down his back under the weight of his armour, he felt his distrust melt away. 

As Lambert took the skin of water, his fingers brushed against yours for the briefest moment. You jumped, your heartbeat intensifying in his ears. Lambert clenched his jaw before he drinks from the skin, disappointed in himself for thinking that this random girl that he just chased down the trail would be kind to him just for the sake of being kind.

You had seen him tense up at your reaction. Your cheeks had reddened as you clasped your hands to the strap on your pack. “I’m-I’m so sorry, Master Witcher,” you had stammered, “I promise, it’s not because of you, I’m just-I’m just very sensitive to touch.”

Lambert had glanced over at you then, ready with about five different retorts about where you could shove your promise. But when he saw your eyes, recognition surged through him. He took in the flowy clothes, the hair that you had so carefully tied so as not to fall into your face, the light scratch marks along your skin. It was like being shot back in time, back to when he had just gone through the Trial of the Grasses. Everything felt too tight, too itchy, too stiff, too  _ much.  _ And even now, the smallest unexpected touch from someone could send him reeling. 

Lambert had walked at your side the rest of the way to the town, peeling off once he had seen the ealdorman to collect his reward. When he had stepped back out into the sun, his coin pouch a bit fuller, he was surprised to see you still standing where he had left you. He had approached you slowly, feeling like his feet were dragging through the dust and the dirt. 

You had watched him come with a smile on your lips and a glint in your eyes. You had nodded towards the other end of the town and Lambert looked, seeing a small home resting atop a small hill on the outskirts. 

“Would you like a bite to eat?”

* * *

Now, Lambert lay in your bed, dressed down to his chemise and undershorts, his belly full and his mind wandering. Once the basic pleasantries had been made over a hearty meal, you had explained that you had always been like this, skittish to the touch of other people’s skin. It was different if you were expecting it, you had said, but it felt like someone sending lightning through your every nerve. 

Lambert doesn’t get it. Why would this sweet, charming woman who can’t stand being touched open her home to him, offer him a warm meal and a warmer bath, and even a bed to sleep in? The sheets are drenched in your scent, something akin to fresh rain after months of drought. Lambert feels his breathing slow with each breath he takes, relaxing into the comfortable embrace of the blankets around him. 

He looks over at you, curled in on yourself towards him. The moonlight shines across the high points of your cheeks and down the slope of your neck, dissipating into shadows that hide the heart that calls out to him with every beat against your chest. 

He had been careful as he followed you into the bed, grateful for the chance to sleep on something other than dirt and not wanting to risk it with unwarranted advances. Lambert had let you climb in first, trailing after you as he kept as much space between your bodies. He finds himself wanting to reach out and brush a stray strand of hair from your forehead, knowing that it would bother you had you been awake. 

A crackle of thunder sounds far in the distance, the heat carrying the noise faster than the storm. Lambert watches as you shift, stretching in your sleep before your hand brushes against his arm. He stays perfectly still, waiting for you to wake and pull away. Instead, you only move closer, wrapping your arm over his stomach and resting your head on his chest, just above his heart. 

Lambert feels you nuzzle into him, the movement causing his breath to hitch a bit. He steels himself with a deep inhale, slowly letting it out so as not to disturb your slumber. Something new swells inside of him, enveloping his soul with warmth and comfort that it has not seen in decades. You, with all of your anxiety tied up in the sensation of touch, have sought  _ him  _ out in your most vulnerable state of sleep. 

He shouldn’t read into it. You were probably just cold. But, as you kick the blankets off and squeeze tighter around him, he can’t help but thread his fingers through your hair and let himself hope, just for a moment, that you were holding him just for the sake of comfort. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You awaken in Lambert’s arms, and you find each other’s touch to be so much more than just comforting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had a couple of people ask for a continuation/part two to this, and because of who i am as a person, i made it h*rny.

Dim light peeks through the windows, little birds chirping the call of a new morning. It’s just enough to rouse you, letting you slowly become aware of the body that you’re wrapped around. You welcome the warmth, a sweet noise falling from deep in your lungs as you shift against your companion. The memories of yesterday come back like honey, lazily filling in the blanks as you wake.

You shift a bit, dragging your leg along his as you lean to look up at him. Lambert is already awake, peering at you through half-lidded eyes as he smiles.

“Morning, gorgeous,” he mumbles, his voice rough and tumbled with sleep. You blush, reaching up to brush some hair from where it falls in his eyes. It sticks out wildly, mussed from where he had rested on the pillow. 

“I’m glad you’re still here,” you whisper, not wanting to bend the comfortable quiet that a lazy morning brings. 

“Hmm, me too…” he hums, his eyes falling shut as you feel his hand on your back tracing light patterns through your shirt. It’s soothing, you find, the gentleness he gives with just the lightest touch. “Is this alright? I didn’t want to move you and wake you up…”

You hum, running your own hand down his cheek and following the line of his jaw. “It’s nice, I like feeling your hands on me.”

You see Lambert’s eyes widen a bit before he tilts his head to the side, not unlike the wolf from his medallion. He lifts the hand that isn’t around your back to your cheek, stopping just short of touching you. 

“May I?” he asks and you nod, leaning into his touch and letting the sparks fly under the surface of your skin. You shiver a bit from the sensation before you scooch yourself up, nosing into the hollow of his neck as his hand drifts down your arm. Lambert’s fingers intertwine with yours where they rest on his stomach. 

You gently place your lips against the skin of his neck, feeling his breath hitch under your lips when you do.

“I thought you didn’t like to be touched,” he breathes, raspy and gritty with want. 

“Hmm, never said I didn’t like touch,” you whisper, your lips just barely brushing against his ear with every word. “Only that I was  _ sensitive  _ to touch. I’m sure that there are spots that are sensitive on you that are quite pleasurable…”

Your hand slides down the plane of his stomach, finding him hard and straining against his undershorts. You hear Lambert hiss at the faintest glance of your fingers along his length. On your next pass though, you grow bolder, pressing your palm against the thin fabric that just barely conceals his cock.

“ _ Oh, fuck,”  _ Lambert bucks into your hand, clenching his jaw with a grunt. You smile against his skin, lightly kissing down his neck before his shirt gets in the way. Suddenly, you’re struck with an idea, and you are weak just thinking about it. 

In the space of a heartbeat you lift off of Lambert, flinging the blanket from the bed and letting the chill of the morning air run across your skin. Lambert lets out an annoyed groan that quickly turns into a choked-off moan when you move to straddle his hips. You let your weight rest on him as he sets his hands on your waist. Lambert is a vision like this, bathed in gentle sunlight and desperate under your fingers. 

He sits himself up, pulling your chest against him as he catches your lips in a bruising kiss. It’s full of teeth and need and hunger, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. You feel Lambert’s hands bunch the fabric of your nightgown in their grasp. You can imagine him ripping through the soft material as if it were merely made of thin parchment, and that sends a dizzying wave of arousal straight to your core. 

“Ah, wait,” you murmur into his mouth, pulling back as you catch your breath. You slide your hands under the hem of his undershirt, feeling the taught muscles of his stomach jump and twitch under your fingers. Just before you can lift the shirt over his head he lunges forward, catching your bottom lip between his teeth before he nips and bites along the slope of your neck. 

“Gods, I want you,” Lambert’s stubble scratches along the delicate flesh with his words, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. 

“So do I, dear-” your words cut off with a low moan as you feel him sink his teeth into your pulse point, licking and sucking to soothe the forming mark. “I’d much rather have you naked, though.”

You feel his cock throb against your core, clearly agreeing with you. You move backward, lifting yourself from the bed just out of Lambert’s reach. The wooden floors of your cabin are cool under your bare feet, grounding you as you reach for the hem of your nightgown. You swiftly pull it over your head, letting it float to the floor behind you as your fingers drift lazily over your bare chest.

Lambert’s eyes burn with their intensity, chasing the path of your hands as you openly tease him with your newly exposed skin. The peaks of your breasts are stiff, rolling between your fingers and drawing a breathy gasp from your lungs. You let your eyes rove over Lambert, really wishing that his clothes were literally anywhere else instead of on his body.

“You seem terribly overdressed, darling,” you smirk, lightly thumbing the waist of your underthings. He’s blatantly palming himself through his shorts, a truly delicious grin dancing over the glint of his teeth when he catches your eye. Lambert reaches up, taking the neck of his shirt and lifting it, shucking it from is arms onto the floor. You bite your lip as you take in the new sight, the muscles of his arms swelling as he twists his broad shoulders, the brutal strength of his torso dusted with dark hair and more scars than you can count. 

You hook your fingers into your underthings and slide them down, leaving them where they fall as you step back towards the bed. Lambert moves to touch you but you hold out a hand, stopping him before he can. 

“Can I try something?” you ask, and you see a brief flicker of worry through the lust in Lambert’s eyes. He is at his most vulnerable, and this would be the perfect time for someone to get the upper hand on him and betray his trust. You have no intention of doing that though, pouring as much kindness and comfort into your gaze. You watch as the lump in his throat bobs as he swallows nervously, leaning back to lay on the bed.

“I trust you,” he whispers, barely loud enough for you to hear. Your heart swells with the knowledge of his trust, knowing that it is not something given easily.

“Do me a favor, love,” you walk to the foot of the bed, peering down at him with a lazy smile, “take those off for me, nice and slow.”

Lambert looks up at you then and inhales deeply, a pretty flush decorating his chest and traveling up his neck. You see his eyes darken, leaving only a whisper of gold around a void of black. A naughty smirk dances over his features as he lifts his hips, leisurely sliding the undershorts down his legs. You watch unashamedly, biting your lip as, inch by inch, Lambert becomes bare before you. 

“You’re beautiful,” you sigh, your eyes trailing over the swells of his thighs and up to the length of his cock, aching and weeping with arousal. 

“May I touch you?” You reach out carefully, stopping just shy of his leg.

“Oh gods,  _ please,”  _ the Witcher lying on your bed  _ whines,  _ pulling a giggle from your lips at the frankly ridiculous noise. You let your fingers just barely fall onto his calf, tracing a swirl of lines back and forth up past his knee. Lambert arches into the touch, desperate for more, harder, impatient as you predicted he’d be. 

You tut, pulling your hand away as he tries to increase your pace. “Please? Humor me?” You put your hands on your hips and give him your best chiding look. He stares back at you for a moment, testing you, but when you only raise your eyebrows a little higher he relents, relaxing back onto the pillow. 

“Thank you, just be patient dear,” you murmur, your fingers drifting back to their place at his knee. Lambert hums in acknowledgment, not terribly happy about having to exercise his almost nonexistent patience, but he thinks that he would endure waiting until the day that pigs sprouted wings and flew across the sky if you would just keep touching him. 

You bring your other hand to rest along his other leg, moving your hands in time with one another up towards his hips. You can feel Lambert tremble beneath you, gnawing the inside of his cheek to keep from rushing your exploration. When you continue moving up, avoiding his leaking cock in favor of running your hands through the hair on his chest he huffs, clenching his eyes closed and fisting his hands in the blanket below him. You climb back over him, hovering your hips over his and leaning down, sliding your hands up to the nape of his neck. 

When you let your lips brush against his, Lambert’s resolve finally breaks, his hands flying to your hips and pulling you close. You moan into his mouth, letting him deepen the kiss as you feel his hips rock frantically against you. His hips stutter and a sudden warmness spills over your stomach, slick and heady on your skin. 

“Oh, oh  _ fuck,”  _ Lambert sighs back into the pillow, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Gods, I’m so sorry, I tried to wait, let you lead, but then it was just too much and I couldn’t-”

You silence him with a kiss, knocking his arm away as you cup the sides of his face. His hands find your hips once more, but they are gentle, reverent in their touch as they sweep up and down your sides. 

“I know, I know,” you murmur, smiling down at him as you pull back. You push yourself up to rest on his thighs just below his hips. You can see where Lambert’s seed spilled on the both of your stomachs, a wave of arousal coursing through you at the sight. His cock is still hard where it lays against his hip. You reach down, taking him in your hand and squeezing lightly at the base. 

You run your hand up and down a few times, his fingers tightening on your hips as he grunts. 

“Please, can I- _ oh fuck,  _ can I just-” Lambert writhes in your grasp, his pupils blown out and a vein in his neck straining against his skin with how tightly he is clenching his jaw.

“Go ahead,” you smile, gasping when he shifts beneath you and flips you both, switching your positions so that he hovers over you. He leans down to kiss you as he slowly pushes himself inside of you, swallowing your moans as you lightly scratch along his back. You can feel him shudder under your nails, hiding into the crook of your neck as he seats himself fully. 

You can feel Lambert  _ everywhere,  _ his teeth glancing along your neck, down your chest to suckle and prod at your breasts. His hands, kneading the plush of your ass where he holds you down to the bed. His chest, pressing against you, and the heat of his breath that drifts lazily over your skin. And the length of his cock, filling you so completely that you’re worried you’ll spill over with want. The burning stretch of your cunt, fading into an ache that can only be quelled by the man above you.

“C’mon, love,” you murmur, threading your fingers through his hair, adorably mussed by sleep and your other activities. Lambert perks up at the nickname, a flash of confusion and denial shrouding his features. You cup his face again and bring him down to you, pulling him out of his spiraling thoughts as you clench your walls around him.

“ _ Fucking shit, holy hell,”  _ the curses continue as he begins to move, slowly thrusting his hips into yours. Soon though, his words become a  _ little  _ softer, resting his forehead on yours as his thrusts quicken. 

“Ah, gods, you’re so  _ tight,  _ it’s like you were made just for my cock, I’m not sure I’ll ever be satisfied with anything else, not after you,” his words punctuated by gasps and groans, pulling you oh so close to the edge of your climax. His hips snap relentlessly into you, each time sending a cascade of warmth through your cunt. 

You cant your hips in time with his, chasing your high, and Lambert gives an impish grin before capturing your lips once more and bringing one hand to your heat. He rubs quick, tight little circles around the peak of your core, his hips moving wildly and faster than humanly possible. You can feel his chest rumbling against yours, almost as if he were purring as he fucked you into oblivion. 

“C’mon,  _ c’mon,  _ let go for me, my dove, let go,  _ yessss…”  _ his words carry you over the edge, your hips jerking wildly in his grasp as you lose yourself in the all-encompassing climax. You cry out, low and lusty as your walls clench Lambert’s cock like a vice, squeezing and pulling him to his own release. He pulls out at the last second with a drawn-out groan, rapidly fucking into his own hand as he spends thick ropes of his release above you. He paints you with it, some of it coming as far up as your lips, letting you eagerly dart your tongue to taste him. 

You fall back into the pillows, releasing a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Lambert sinks back onto his heels, his cock still spilling over his fingers. 

“My gods,” you whisper in awe, “is it like that every time?” 

Lambert laughs, finally relenting as his cock starts to finally fall limp in his grasp. “Well, it’s always a  _ lot,  _ but not usually this much. I may need a minute…”

“Oh, fuck, I may need a bit longer than a minute, dear,” you chuckle, reaching out to pull him next to you. Lambert only takes your hand in his and places a light kiss to the tips of your fingers before dropping them, climbing off of the bed on only slightly wobbly legs. He grabs his undershirt that he had been wearing and lightly dampens it, bringing it back to you and wiping away the evidence of your joined releases before they can get sticky on your skin. 

He lets the now soiled cloth fall to the floor before climbing back into the bed, falling next to you with a dramatic ‘oomf’ when he hits the pillow.

You turn over so that you’re on your side, facing Lambert where he mirrors you. He’s wearing a goofy smile that only acts to make him that much more adorable, especially considering how rare that grin probably is.

“Will you stay? At least for a little bit?” you whisper, gently running your hand along the edge of his jaw. He hums noncommittally in response, relaxing into your touch and letting his eyes fall closed. Lambert is suddenly exhausted, and he’s glad for the comfortable space that he feels safe enough to be so exposed in. You let him sleep, content to hold him close for as long as you can until he leaves, taking your heart with him.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading, you can find me on tumblr @pressedinthepages


End file.
